


Tattered Overcoat

by cathrheas



Series: @cathrheas' Kinktober 2019 [17]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Blow Jobs, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-21 11:53:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21074453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cathrheas/pseuds/cathrheas
Summary: Caspar has gotten a few more scars over the years.





	Tattered Overcoat

**Author's Note:**

> (Day 17: Scars)
> 
> i promise there will be real smut tomorrow....
> 
> anyway this ship is underrated and their B support is funny. recommended, highly.
> 
> song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cbEWIiukWMM

Caspar always wore his battle scars proudly. He was a go-getter, someone who never backed down from a fight, and the wear and tear on his body showed his experiences. People thought him strange for it, girls were horrified by the gruesome collage of scars on his body. 

Except for Dorothea. She loved them.

She had an odd fascination with them when they were in their academy days, but when they reunited during the war, it became even more intense. She was always checking in on him, cleaning him up after battles, even going so far as to learn white magic to heal him. He didn’t need anybody to clean him up or coddle him, but he never turned her down. She was his sweetheart, a fling that ended when the war began but came back twice as strong when they met again.

He didn’t mind the intimacy. She didn’t mind how violent it all was; she hated the war, but she met the scars on Caspar’s body with adoration, with love, something he didn’t see too often. At times, when he was laying in the infirmary, he would think of what it’d be like when Dorothea caressed the scars he’d formed that day. The bruises on his arms, the cuts on his knuckles, the gash on his hip. He wanted Dorothea’s touch, her comfort, her pride in him. His pride in himself had increased, knowing that Dorothea would always love his scars.

He climbed into Dorothea’s bed one night, stretching his back as his legs hung over the edge. He’d been in a nasty brawl earlier with one of the Imperial soldiers, but he hadn’t brought back any new scars that night. He was still sore as all hell, though.

Dorothea came up behind him, wrapping her arms around his broad soldiers. “There’s my strong little man,” Dorothea said, kissing the shell of his ear.

“I’m not little,” he mumbled. “But, yeah, I’m here...”

“Looks like you were a little more cautious today.” Dorothea ran her hands over Caspar’s shirtless torso, his arms, then his thighs. She paused there, though, making a noise of surprise. “What’s this? I don’t remember seeing this one...”

She ran her finger along a darkened line of flesh on Caspar’s inner thigh, a wound Caspar had long forgotten. He had to think about where it came from, think long and hard, but the memory eventually came back. “A sword from a while ago, I think. After the war started. A little bit too close to the jewels, if you ask me.”

Dorothea ran her finger back and forth along Caspar’s scar a few more times. Then, Caspar felt her weight shifting behind him as she got off of the bed. “Let me have a closer look.”

“Sounds like an excuse, to me,” Caspar said. 

She didn’t deny it. She simply sank to her knees in front of him, and he parted his legs without being asked. It was definitely an excuse; she used one hand to grasp his bulge, moving it out of the way so that she could kiss the full length of his scar. Smooch, smooch, smooch, all the way inward. The scar really was a bit too close to home, nearly touching the waistband of his briefs. Dorothea kissed it all the way up, maybe a little bit further, then went back down it with her tongue. Her hand squeezed Caspar through his underwear, and he shuddered at her touch, the wetness of her tongue.

“My strong little Caspar,” she cooed. Her hand pulled the waistband of his briefs back, allowing his shaft to show itself. He was already hard for her, just from her lips and her words. He couldn’t even object to her use of the word “little”, no matter how inaccurate it was. “It’s like no matter how many scars you get...you’re still just as handsome and resilient as before.”

“Y’know, I appreciate the compliments, but if you’re going to get so close to my junk, it’d be great if you did a little more than stare at it.”

“Oh, my apologies,” Dorothea said. She didn’t sound sorry at all, really. “I suppose I should focus on what I have in front of me...before you manage to get a scar here.”

“Don’t even  _ joke _ about that.”


End file.
